The stern expressions on the faces of my in-laws told me that they were in fact serious…very serious.

“A spanking,” I said, “I’m 26 years old, so is Barry. You’re going to spank us?”

“Perhaps a hot bottom is exactly what you need, young woman.” My father-in-law growled.

I should explain exactly how all this came about. My husband, Barry and I met, and had a whirlwind romance. He had moved away from his home state for work. We met at work as we were on a project together. We’re the same age, and we had a lot in common, similar tastes in music, movies and literature. We fit together. We never saw the sense in waiting, so once he had said he wanted to marry me we did it. The quick nature of it all meant that I had never met his parents until now. We decided to honeymoon at their place as it was a few months after the wedding, and they live in a pleasant area with some historical significance. Being a bit of a history buff that appealed to me.

Barry’s parents had him later in life, so they’re older than mine and retired. He’s an only child, but very much not spoiled as onlies have a reputation of being. It’s almost like they live in a bit of a time warp. Their house, and the way they act it’s a little like stepping back into the 1950’s.

Hilary and Jack; my in-laws, who I was told to call Mum and Dad, seemed to like me and were eager to show me off to their friends, it was rather like I was a prize Barry brought home from a contest. At first I was kind of flattered, even though it could have been seen as a bit demeaning, but they’re very old fashioned, so it made sense.

You’re probably still wondering how we got to the start of this. It was my fault, I admit that. We’d been staying at the Townsend’s for nearly a week of our intended two week holiday and they invited some friends; the Goldsworthy’s, over for a night of cribbage. This was a weekly thing. Hilary and Jack had been playing cards with Fiona and Steve for as long as even Barry could remember.

Despite the fact that I had never heard of cribbage, or crib as the aficionados call it, I was invited to make up a pair with Barry and join in the fun. This was probably a mistake on everyone’s part. I may not have ever played crib, but I certainly know my way around a deck of cards.

In college one of my circle of friends worked as a croupier, and he was also interested in card tricks, he showed me a few and how to stack a deck. I became quite proficient at it.

I should have known before it got to this point that what I suggested to Barry that evening was a bad idea. Hilary is very blunt and no nonsense. The previous night my in-laws had been regaling me with stories of my husband in his youth.

Particularly interesting had been a time he had nearly set the house alight when desperately trying not to get busted smoking.

“Okay,” I laughed, “I’ve had my moments and gave my parents some grief, but never that bad, young man.”

Barry blushed.

“What did he get for that?” I asked my mother-in-law.

“Oh, he had difficulty sitting down for a few days.” she replied with a small smile.

“He had an encounter with my belt.” Jack clarified.

“After he’d had a chat with Mrs Hairbrush.” Hilary added.

I looked at Barry, and his face was growing redder with every word his parents said.

I’d never been spanked as a kid. My father threatened occasionally, but never hit us. Mum used to tell us stories about how Grandma gave her and my aunts and uncles the wooden spoon, but we never got it. It didn’t surprise me that the Townsends spanked Barry even in this day and age, they were an old fashioned couple, so they naturally favoured more traditional discipline methods.

I was stunned, I couldn’t even think of a reply. They spanked a fifteen year old boy for smoking. That was seriously hard core. Barry looked like he was hoping the floor would open up and swallow him. I quickly changed the subject by mentioning that I could do with another cup of coffee.

Fiona and Steve Goldsworthy seemed nice enough when we first met them and had drinks before the game. This changed once the cards were dealt. It doesn’t happen to everyone, but some people are intensely competitive when it comes to cards. The Goldsworthys were both of that type, especially Fiona. I don’t think it helped that the two couples bet on the games. The money was fairly inconsequential, it was pennies. I’d be surprised if more than five dollars changed hands, but it was the principal of the thing. The deal favoured the Goldsworthys, and they had soon established a handy lead. As I was a novice this wasn’t surprising, but Fiona Goldsworthy’s histrionics began to get on my nerves.

I cornered Barry in the kitchen during a break in play, while we were both getting refreshments for our in-laws and their guests. “Is she for real?” I asked my husband.

“Well, I’m not going to tell them, are you?” I asked. “Besides won’t they love it if the Goldsworthys lose?”

“They probably will,” he said thoughtfully, “but if we get caught I am not going to be happy about it Tricia Jane.”

“Oh ye of little faith.” I told my husband, as we entered the living room again.

My skills had not suffered from disuse, and the Goldsworthys soon fell behind as the game progressed. Some of it was just bad luck, but every time I had the cards in my hands I saw to it that they were dealt some largely useless hands.

To their credit Fiona and Steve Goldsworthy bore it with a grin, and were still in good spirits at the end of the evening as they wished everyone a good night. “That crib after the drinks break seemed to start your run of bad luck.” Hilary told her friend Fiona.

“I know,” Fiona said, “I just couldn’t take a trick after that. Your daughter-in-law did well for a novice.”

I blushed, and grinned “Beginners luck.”

“Oh, what a good night,” Hilary breathed to Jack once the door had been closed on their guests, “I can’t remember the last time Fiona and Steve lost, can you?”

“No, I can’t.” Jack murmured, settling into his armchair, and eyeing Barry and I off thoughtfully.

“It was an odd game,” Hilary continued, “I’ve never seen someone get as many bad cribs in a row as Fiona and Steve did tonight. Oh, and for Barry and Trish to win, with Trish never have played the game before. Well done, you two! Barry must be a good teacher, Tricia.”

I squirmed, feeling a bit uncomfortable being congratulated for cheating.

“I’m going to pop the kettle on, do you want to help, Trish?”

I wanted to accept, anything to get out of my father-in-law’s increasingly suspicious eye.

I was about to escape to the kitchen when Jack Townsend spoke. “If I didn’t know better I’d think the deck was stacked tonight.”

I froze, and Barry shot me a look that said ‘I told you so.’

Hilary stopped in her tracks, looked at her husband and said “Whatever do you mean, Jack? What’s stacking the deck?”

“It’s a gambling term, dear.” her husband answered. “Someone who knows enough about dealing cards can arrange them so that they can deal them in a preset order.”

“Oh.” Hilary said, trying to work out why her husband would have brought this up.

“It’s a form of cheating.” Jack continued, his eyes never leaving Barry or I.

“I’m sure the Goldsworthys just had a run of bad luck.” Hilary dismissed her husband’s comments.

“Never had one like that before. Why did Trish take your deals Barry? You hurt your hand, son?”

“Uhhhh…no Dad,” Barry prevaricated, ‘Trish is just a better dealer than I am and it was a good way to help her learn the rules.”

“Funny that it and Fiona and Steve’s ‘run’ started at the same time.” Jack posed.

Hilary stood by her husband’s chair, and she too began to look at us in an accusing manner. I quailed under those clear, cold eyes.

“How do you know about stacking a deck?” I asked my father-in-law, trying to figure a way out of this, Barry and I had been busted, no doubt about it.

“I worked with a chap who knew about it, Miss. My question is what do you know about it?”

“Jack, are you suggesting that Trish and Barry cheated?” Hilary demanded.

“Only they can answer that question.” Jack Townsend said in a steady voice. “Well, what about it, Barry? Did either you or your wife tamper with the cards?”

Barry and I exchanged a look. I sighed and nodded. We had done the wrong thing, but no harm had been done and it was stupid, but we should own up, after all we were adults, what could they do? The worst thing would be we’d have to own up to the Goldsworthys and apologize. “Dad, Mum, I can’t lie.” Barry said, and to tell the truth although I felt a bit sick to my stomach, I was proud of him. “Trish did something to the deck so that we would win.”

Hilary went white and grabbed the back of her husband’s chair. I thought she was going to cry. “I…I can’t…I can’t believe this!” she said in a furious shaking voice. “You cheated our friends! Why? Was it the money? How am I going to face Fiona at church on Sunday knowing that my children cheated her tonight?”

Barry was upset, and he had Jack were engaged in a staring match, so I answered “Fiona…” I caught Hilary’s angry glare and amended my speech, “Mrs Goldsworthy was getting on my nerves, the way she carried on every time she and Ste…Mr Goldsworthy won a hand. I just wanted to teach them a lesson.”

“Someone will be learning a lesson tonight,” Jack said in an ominous voice, “but it will not be Steve and Fiona Goldsworthy.”

Although I was nervous I did not really think there was anything the Townsends could do to me, that was until Hilary spoke again. “You know if Barry were a few years younger he would have been taking one of those trips to the woodshed we discussed the other night.”

“Mum!” Barry burst out, scandalized.

“Well, what am I supposed to think, Barry?” his mother shot back. “I thought we brought you up better than to cheat and lie to our friends. Maybe you and Tricia should cut your visit short. I’m not certain I can bear to have you in the house when you won’t even accept punishment for what you’ve done.”

“Mum!” Barry said, almost in tears, and looked at his father “Dad!”

“I’m with your mother, son.” Jack replied.

I wanted to say something, somehow comfort my husband, but I didn’t trust myself to speak, and then Barry spoke up again “Look, I don’t necessarily agree with this, but if it’s going to clear the air then I’ll take the spanking.”

My eyes went really wide. Had I just fallen into some bizarre alternate reality where my 26 year-old husband was offering to let is parents spank him because he’d cheated in a friendly card game?

When neither party showed any signs of coming to their senses, I decided to try and defuse the situation. “Look, it was more my fault than Barry’s, so if you’re going to spank anyone it should be me.”

Despite Barry desperately mouthing ‘No!’ as soon as I opened my mouth I plunged on regardless.

Surely having it laid out like that would show Jack and Hilary how crazy the night had gotten.

It didn’t. “That’s a very mature attitude of you, Tricia.” Hilary said and I heaved a sigh of relief, my ploy had worked. “Why don’t you and Barry retire to your room, so that your father and I can get ready to scorch two naughty little situpons?”

That was when I had my little outburst, and after Jack had told me that I could use a hot bottom, I let Barry drag me gently to our room, which was his old bedroom. I stood by the bed and stared at him “What the hell does get ready mean?” I demanded.

“It means they want us in pj’s. I did warn you Trish.”

“You didn’t warn me your parents were nuts!”

“Trish, please don’t go there. Yes, they’re quirky, but we did step way over the line with that card thing. Maybe if your parents spanked you occasionally you wouldn’t have done it.”

I was at first attempted to flare up, but then remembered some times growing up that I’d gotten into trouble I may not have otherwise found myself in if I’d known a smacked bottom was waiting for me at home.

“Trish,” Barry said, drawing me out of my reverie, “you don’t have to go through with this, babe. Mum and Dad are really serious about it, it’s not fun.”

“Are you going to back out?” I asked.

He shook his head “I can’t. Not now.”

“Then neither will I.” I said firmly, although I felt like I was going to wet myself. “I married you for better or worse and if this is as bad as it gets, then we’ll be doing okay.”

Barry’s eyes filled with tears. “I love you.” he said, and kissed me long and hard full on the lips.

It was rather fortunate we had pajamas. Prior to visiting his parents, neither Barry, or I owned a pair. We generally sleep in the raw, but thought that we may shock the older Townsends if we visited the bathroom during the night and were in the altogether, so purchased some pjs before we went. Barry had a pair of flannel ones with little Superman logos all over them. We had laughed about it at the time, now it seemed rather apt. Mine were red satin with gold thread and were Chinese in style. As I slipped into them that evening I wished I had something that offered my tender rear end some more protection.

Hilary and Jack were seated apart when we reentered the living room. Jack was still in his armchair and Hilary was on the couch. “Well, don’t you two look adorable?” Hilary commented. “Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth now, would it?”

They were rhetorical questions and neither of us answered.

More shocks were to come when Hilary announced “Barry you’re with me. Tricia go to Jack.”

Jack! I was going to be spanked by my father-in-law! No! This could not be happening!

Barry went to his mother’s side. I watched numbly. My mouth dropping open as Hilary put her fingers into the waistband of his flannel pajama bottoms, and whisked them down to his knees, before she tipped him over her lap.

No! No! No! The thought screamed through my mind, they could not possibly do that to me. “Come here, young lady.” Jack’s deep voice ordered me.

My legs working independently of my brain, I walked the few steps to stand by Jack’s muscular thigh. I could feel my heart hammering inside my chest. Jack put one large hand on the small of my back and guided me over his lap. Oh, at least he wasn’t going to spank my bare bottom. I heard a loud crack, and my husband yell. I turned my head to see Hilary belabouring her son’s cute, firm white buttocks with the back of a heavy looking hairbrush. I thought thank God that wasn’t me, before I yelped as my father-in-law dragged my sheer satin pajama bottoms over my bottom, and then his hard, horny palm snapped over the tight double bulge of my buttocks with a sharp rubbery crack. From that point on the only coherent thought that ran through my mind was to do with the fires Jack Townsend’s very firm hand was igniting on my once white rump.

I could hear Barry yelling, and I knew I was doing the same thing, it was an interesting counterpoint to the regular sound of hand and wooden hairbrush impacting loudly on bare vulnerable flesh. Unfortunately dangling over my father-in-law’s knees I was in no real position to appreciate it. Mostly I was wishing it would all be over soon. At what I assume was the halfway mark Jack’s hand stopped it’s regular downwards motion.

I sniffed and hiccupped and almost thought my spanking had finished, but no such luck. Jack had only paused to accept the hairbrush from his wife, before she went back to scorching Barry’s patootie with her hand. I roared as Jack put the brush to me. His hand had hurt and stung, but the hairbrush was an entirely new sensation, it also smarted and burned, but in a totally different way. Barry and I were yelling, and kicking over our parents laps like two adolescent brats, as our bottoms were set on fire and turned a glowing crimson.

I was barely aware of Jack telling me that the spanking was finished until I felt his large, sure hands lifting me gently off his lap, and setting me on my feet. “I’m…uh…I’m suhsuhsorry, sir.” I blubbered.

His stern eyes looked into my tear filled ones and he told me “I know you are, Tricia, but we’re not quite done yet, Miss. What you and Barry did was serious and your mother and I have to make sure you are aware of that.”

Oh God! There was more? How could there be more?

I fell into Barry’s arms, bawling. He rubbed my blazing back end, and whispered “You’re doing really well, hon'. Kneel on the couch with me.”

Barry guided me to the couch, and we both knelt on it, side by side, clutching each others hands tightly. He was so close that our superheated bottoms touched, and I could feel how hot he was. I was strangely aware of every sound in the place. My laboured breathing, and that of my husband, our occasional sobs. I heard a leathery slithering noise behind us, and stiffened. What was what? I felt a tremor go through Barry’s body. “Kneel up straight.” Jack commanded.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see my father-in-law shaking out an evil looking wide black leather belt.

Barry helped me rise, and then I screamed as that strap swathed fresh heat across my abused buttocks. Jack strapped the two of us thoroughly, until both our bottoms were blistering hot. My throat was raw from yelling, and my face was covered with a mixture of tears, saliva, sweat and snot. Barry was the same, he was red in the face, and he looked the way a little kid does when they have a cold and turn into what Bill Cosby referred to as ‘the glazed donut monster’. It was no comfort that I probably looked the same way.

As my soundly spanked and strapped rear throbbed, and felt like molten lava had been poured over it Jack’s authoritarian voice boomed again “Okay you two, move apart.”

Biting back the urge to grumble, I shuffled away from my husband on my knees, and wondered what new torture my in-laws had devised for us.

“Spread ‘em, Barry!” Jack barked.

Intrigued, I turned my head to look at Barry, and see what my father-in-law had meant. Barry opened his legs, and wincing grabbed his sore bottom cheeks and pulled them apart, exposing the tender protected flesh into between. Jack stood back, measured the distance and let the strap fly. He struck six times, three strokes on each side of my husband’s inside cheeks. They couldn’t possibly want to do this to me! To my horror, as Barry collapsed across the back of the couch sobbing and whimpering, Hilary rubbing his back and speaking softly to him, Jack ordered “You know what to do, young lady.”

I swallowed hard, and obeyed as best I could.

“Wider.” was the only command I received as I spread my legs, and gasped in pain as my hands grasped my freshly spanked globes and pulled them apart. I screamed as Jack used that long, horrid length of leather to sear my innermost buttocks and I don’t know how I stayed upright for the entire six bottom roasters. I do know that I never ever want to experience anything that painful again.

Barry and I limped to our room where we spent the next half hour using an entire jar of cold cream slathered over our bottoms in a vain attempt to dampen down the raging infernos in them. We took coffee, which I had to make and serve, with Hilary and Jack, standing by the mantel while they enjoyed their drinks, and passed comments about their two grown children who they had to spank like misbehaving pre teens.